


And All I've Done

by HMFrost



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, the governor's an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMFrost/pseuds/HMFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The meaning behind Hershel's smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All I've Done

**Author's Note:**

> takes place during the midseason finale right before ~the big moment~

It was peculiar, but he felt a bizarre sense of peace in that moment. Even when the painfully cold edges of the metal teased the skin on his neck, the steady pace of his heart never faltered. Hershel supposed that even the greatest of men in his circumstance would've been begging for their lives, bargaining to a god who refused to listen to save their poor soul once again. However, he wasn't that kind of man, and perhaps he would never be.

He watched his daughters look on in horror, their sweet faces stained with anticipation of a tragedy. The divided shadows of the chain link fence slithered across their eyes, almost like a torn veil. Silently, he mourned for them. They had grown so much; their youth was lost with the world, and their souls had become as old as him. For Maggie and Beth, there would be no apple pie life filled with Christmas Eves by the fireplace or Thanksgiving dinners with the awkward relative from Massachusetts. No, they were warriors now; they would never be children.

Rick's pleads to the one eyed man rolled off his tongue, sincerity bleeding in every word. With admiration, Hershel listened absorbedly as Rick's voice permeated the cool air. There were days where he had come close, but since being forced to leave the farm behind, Hershel had never lost his faith in him. Even as the sheriff was haunted by his losses and insanity had nearly conquered his mind, Hershel was there to offer fatherly advice and wisdom that suited a man of his age. Proudly, he watched as Rick attempted to handle the situation diplomatically and assiduously for the sake of his people.

For Hershel's sake.

He wanted to tell him that everything would be alright, that it was not worth trying to save the life of a crippled old man, and that it was simply his time to die. The words could never leave his chapped lips.

Eyes flashed before him, a white light refracted in a prism. A rainbow of blues and greens and browns flickered in the onerous sun, each a paperback cover for their own story. Hershel could see every emotion, and he could see no emotions. And perhaps his imminent death had rendered him senile, but he swore to the heavens he could also see God in each of their faces. A smile frolicked through his ashen beard as he tried to convey his philosophies to the group once more.

_Of all the comrades that e'er I had  
They're sorry for my going away_

There was a day when he'd thought his god had abandoned him, turning a blind eye while Hershel was a fish out of water, struggling to breathe. For the longest time, he'd comfort himself with a sea of opaque liquids that allowed him to forget his woes. Over the years, Hershel had started to believe that dying by poison was better than a constant reminder of his lost faith. But when his children had crept into his life without warning, he saw it as His way of asking for forgiveness and he graciously accepted, vowing to live life indisputably.

_Fill to me the parting glass_  
And drink a health whate'er befalls  
And gently rise and softly call

Human voices were silenced by the soft rustling of the verdant leaves. Hearts continued to drum, soundless but alive. The steady thump of his own heart echoed in his ears, and he cherished every beat as if it would be his last.

A procession of prayers cascaded through his mind, but not a single one was for his own wellbeing. He prayed for his lost wives and sons. He prayed for Rick. He prayed for Carl. He prayed for Glenn. He prayed for the weathered faces of his group, the ones he'd sworn to guard until his dying breath, and for the ones that had vanished during the long journey.  _Heavenly Lord, I pray for safe passage for my people. Please see that they survive this hell and see the rebirth of a brave new world._ He had even prayed for Phillip, hoping that the man would see the light and atone for his sins. Mostly, he prayed for his daughters to remain perpetually beautiful spirits.

The irony was not lost on him that the day was the most beautiful he had seen in years. The sky was a blinding cerulean and the babbling crook behind him ate the silence happily with the gentle wind that danced with the trees. On a day like this, all he could bring himself to do was to idolize beauty in its simplest form, beauty that had not been distorted by the sands of time but rather, enhanced by it.

The smile never faded, even when his thoughts were silenced by the swift slash of the blade.

_Good night and joy be with you all._

**Author's Note:**

> to be honest, i was really sad to see hershel go. he was such an interesting character and one of my favorites. i hope i did him justice.


End file.
